The Last Time I Saw Jaime Lannister
by Kashari
Summary: Winter is over and Arya finds Jaime Lannister in a Braavosi tavern. She last saw him the night she went to give Cersei the gift of death. He is the only one who can answer the question that has haunted her for the last four years...


She slunk into the tavern, unnoticed by everyone until she raised a finger to the serving girl, indicating she wanted a drink. The rowdiness continued around her but she sat in silence, observing.

She watched the man hunched in the corner of the room for some time before she was certain it was him. While she felt surprise, her features didn't show it; she was well-trained. On reflection, she reasoned he would never be able to stay in Westeros but the odds of him being in the same Bravosi tavern as she was? Arya didn't believe in coincidences.

She hadn't seen him since that night, four years ago. In the darkness of the bedroom in the Red Keep, she watched him, not believing what she was seeing. She'd been sent to kill Cersei and artfully lied to the Kindly Man when he asked her if she knew the Lannister queen. It was a mission she was keen to carry out and she repeated her old prayer to the rhythm of the rocking boat carrying her across the Narrow Sea. She would carry out her job as dutifully as any other Faceless Man but, deep inside her, little Arya Stark rejoiced at the thought of seeing the bitch queen's life snuff out before her eyes.

The layout of the Red Keep hadn't changed since she'd been there as a child and she suppressed the memories that threatened to distract her. Getting in was easy and she didn't expect much trouble when she reached her target. The whispers from the castle told her the queen had become increasingly reliant on strong Dornish wine to get to sleep and would be snoring soundly long before the hour of the wolf.

Nevertheless, she waited until then to make her move. She wore her own face as she padded softly up to the Queen's bedroom. She didn't intend on giving the gift quickly and easily to Queen Cersei. When she breathed her last, she would know it was Arya Stark who slit her throat.

She slipped into the Queen's bedroom, taking a moment to adjust her eyes to the new set of shadows surrounding her. Before approaching the bed, a grinding noise of stone moving against stone made her pause. A secret passageway opened up in the opposite wall and a figure emerged.

Whoever it was, they couldn't stop her. She wouldn't hesitate to grant the intruder the gift as well. But something in the stranger's movement made her wait to see what they'd planned. It was his golden hair catching the moonlight that made Arya recognise Jaime Lannister.

He had changed much since he last saw him in King's Landing all those years ago. His cheeks were sunken and his eyes carried a haunted look. His golden hand hung heavy next to him, though rumours of the Kingslayer's Golden Hand had long reached Braavos, so this did not come as a surprise. The smirk was gone, as was the swagger she remembered from the long, fateful road to the capital. He was shaking as he slowly approached the queen's bed.

Arya's lip curled in disgust. She had no desire to see the infamous Lannister incest in action and it would be nothing to her to kill him as well. It was the tears rolling down his cheeks that stayed her hand once more. He rested his remaining hand on the wooden pole of one corner of the four post bed, taking deep, jagged breaths in. With one last deep inhale, he bent over the bed, gently turning down the bedclothes from the queen.

Cersei lay undisturbed in a deep wine-induced sleep. Jaime gazed down at her sleeping features for a moment as Arya continued to look on, intrigued. Cersei's hair only reached her shoulders after being shorn by the Faith, while the soft moonlight illuminated her face. Not even the most powerful woman in Westeros could stop the slow march of time and the stress of war and keeping a tight grip on the throne had taken their toll. She was still undeniably beautiful though, even more so when her features lay in peaceful sleep. Jaime continued to look down at her and shook his head. He slowly rubbed his face and began to get up, heading back the way he came.

His movements disturbed the bed and Cersei turned, muttering in her sleep. Arya's keen ears picked up the soft sound. "Burn them..." the queen murmured.

_'__So the rumours are true'_ Arya thought. Ahead of her, Jaime stopped in his tracks, his back straightening up. With sudden speed, he turned and flung his hands around Cersei's throat. Cersei woke up with a vicious grunt, her eyes wide. Her look was panicked and it took a few, long seconds until she focused in on her assailant. Arya watched various expressions flicker across her face; disbelief turned to horror, to hatred and finally to betrayal. Jaime continued to look straight into his twin's eyes as he choked the life out of her.

Cersei's hands frantically gripped Jaime's. She couldn't keep a grip on his golden appendage but Arya spotted blood starting to trickle from his left hand where Cersei scratched him frantically with her nails. Eventually the flailing stopped and Cersei's hand gently stroked Jaime's before she finally gave up the fight. Her features softened as her grip relaxed and as she surrendered to death, she looked at Jaime with a curious expression of fondness and peace. With one last juddering gasp, Cersei Lannister, one of the five queens of Westeros, died.

Jaime didn't loosen his grip straight away. He kept looking at those green eyes, a mirror of his own, even when the last light of life left them. The tears had dried on his face and instead a resigned, focused expression remained. He slowly and deliberately removed his hands from his dead twin's throat. Without looking back he turned and left the room via the secret passageway he entered.

Arya remained in the shadows for a moment. After everything she'd been through, it took a lot to shock her but the sight of Cersei dying by her beloved twin's hand was not what she expected when she took this assignment. She quickly shook herself out of her surprise and made her way to the bed to check for any vital signs of life. After confirming the death, she crept out of the bedroom and back to the servants quarters.

She knew why she'd been sent to kill Cersei. The Iron Bank wanted – needed – a new ruler for Westeros if they were ever to get their money back. Not that, Arya suspected, they ever wanted the Iron Throne to pay them back all their money; it suited them well to have the royal family in their debt. But the Lannisters never made any move to even begin to pay. Besides, the War of the Five Queens, so soon after that of the Five Kings, had eliminated Westeros as a source of income. The Iron Bank decided to back the Dragon Queen and Cersei, that stubborn root in the heart of the Red Keep, was the only thing left in their way.

Arya knew why she'd lied to take the assignment. Cersei had her father arrested, she lied and manipulated Sansa into turning her back on her family. She raised a monster like Joffrey and allowed the child king to take her father's head, after forcing him to abandon his honour. She'd wanted to give Cersei the gift of death for a long time and regretted not being able to do it herself.

What was Jaime Lannister's motive? It was true that he was missing from King's Landing for the beginning of the War of the Five Queens, but he did eventually return to the side of his sister-lover. What persuaded him to sneak into his sister's chamber and murder her in the darkest hour of the night?

That question had followed Arya Stark for the last three years. It followed her successful hunt to be reunited with Nymeria. It followed her long journey back to Winterfell and her relief and seeing Sansa and Rickon alive. It followed her as she struggled to adapt to life in peacetime, haunted by what she lost and what she threw away. She couldn't adapt to life back within her pack and eventually left for the familiarity of Braavos. Arya had found herself a stranger in a familiar land and, despite their shared trauma, could never feel comfortable with the adept schemer that Sansa had become, nor the uncontrollable wilding that Rickon grew up to be. She knew the blacksmith was out there somewhere but the thought of seeing him again only to find a wall of ice between them persuaded to cross the Narrow Sea again. After her awkward goodbyes with her remaining family, she and Nymeria set sail for Braavos. While her actions meant she was no longer welcome in the Faceless Men, they agreed to let her live in the city in peace, once she continued to hold their secrets.

And now Jaime Lannister was sitting in the tavern opposite her, slouching over the table. The most infamous man in Westeros was going unnoticed in this dingy tavern, gazing into his cup of wine. The question of his motive had followed her all the way here and she was determined to get her answer.

Jaime didn't hear her slip into the chair opposite him and she had to cough lightly to get his attention. He looked up lazily but jumped slightly at the sight of her. He leant towards her and peered at her. After a moment he leant back and spoke with that familiar drawl. "And there I was thinking I had finally drunk myself to death and the ghost of Lyanna Stark herself had come to greet me. But no, Lyanna may have started a war and caused to the deaths of thousands, but I doubt the stupid girl carried such a dead look on her face. I don't know where you were all those years but they've been hard on you, Arya Stark."

"You're not exactly in your prime either, Kingslayer."

"Haven't you heard the news? It's Kinslayer now."

"I know…I was the first to know."

"I didn't know I had such a fan."

"I was there", Arya said quietly.

The false smirk left his face as he contemplated her. "In King's Landing?"

"I was in her room the night you killed her."

"Impossible", he sneered, waving his hand to dismiss her.

"I know how she drew blood from her left hand as you gripped her throat, while her other one slid off your gold one. I know she nearly didn't stir at all due to being in her cups. I know you almost didn't do it, that you got up and went to leave. And I know what she said in her sleep to make you turn back."

"And what was that?' Jaime said, his expression cold, his face white as a sheet.

"Burn them", Arya whispered.

The Lannister sat in silence for several minutes, turning his wine cup over in his left hand. Arya noted he no longer wore the golden hand he was famed for. For others the silence may have been uncomfortable but she could wait here for hours.

"It seems you know an awful lot", he eventually said.

"I don't know enough. I don't know why you killed her."

"What does it matter? You were hardly in her room to surprise her with a pleasant reunion. It seemed like I did your job for you."

"Yes, but why?"

"What does it matter?" he growled.

"Because I know why I was there. Now I want to know why you were."

Jaime looked annoyed. "You may know why you were there, but I don't. You were presumed by all to be either dead or married to Bolton's bastard, until the news of a post-war Stark reunion reached my ears. So where were you?"

"What makes you think I wasn't married to Bolton?"

"I _know_ you weren't. I sent someone after you when I returned to King's Landing after my unfortunate stint as your brother's captive."

"Why in seven hells would you do that?" Arya asked.

"Some secrets are still my own", Jaime answered harshly. "People died for you, do you know that? Good people, not people not like me. Strung up by their necks for their failure to produce a living Stark child."

"You'll have to excuse my absence, I was running from your sister who wanted to destroy me and my family."

"Yes, the family you're living so far away from now. One would think you would want to play a part in the revival of the North."

Arya's face betrayed no emotion but she felt her stomach drop. He folded his arms and stared into her cold, grey eyes. "Well Lady Stark, it seems we both have our secrets. But while you're here you might as well have a drink."

He called for more wine and an extra cup for Arya, which she accepted. Idly, she wondered if she could get him drunk enough to tell her but her instinct told her he was not a man to carelessly spill out his secrets over a tavern table. They both sat sipping their wine, carefully eyeing up the other, neither of them wishing to be the first to speak.

On careful consideration, Arya knew it had to be her. He had the upper hand since she'd engaged with him in the first place. She decided to be open about it. "What will it take for you to tell me why you did it?" she asked.

Jaime gave an amused smile at her direct question. "Well, for starters you can tell me why you're so interested."

"When I knew you as a child, you would have done anything for the Queen - "

"You didn't know me", Jaime interrupted. "You didn't know anything about me."

"I know you killed Jory", Arya shot back. "You killed my father's men and damn-near killed my father. I know enough."

"Yes, the legendary Stark honour. How often has that gotten you in trouble? In case you'd forgotten, your mother captured my brother and Ned Stark took credit for it to protect her. She started a war over a whisper from the most dishonest man in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms. Am I to be damned for trying to protect my family?"

Arya scoffed. "Of course the Lannisters would look out for each other. Rather a _close_ family, aren't you?"

Jaime glared back at her over the table and silence fell over the pair once more. Inwardly, Arya cursed her own outspoken nature for not allowing the man to speak. Gods, why did it bother her so much that she didn't know his motivation?

"I'll tell you why I want to know", she finally spoke. "I work at understanding people. I'm very good at determining who should live and who should die and granting those people what they deserve. But I don't know what you deserve. You're known throughout Westeros as being an oathbreaker, a kingslayer and now a kinslayer. But killing Cersei was one of the greatest services a man could do for the world. You did it and you didn't want to. I'd like to know why."

"Your _work_, is it?" Jaime asked, arching an eyebrow. Arya remained silent and steadfast, knowing she'd said too much. It was not like her to let something slip.

"Is that what you're worried about my lady? You're worried that if you were wrong about me, you were wrong about others? Did your _work_ require you to drive that little sword of yours through the hearts of other infamous villains? Do you wonder now if your gracious acts of justice were all a terrible misunderstanding? How many saviours of the realm have you slain because of self righteousness?"

Arya continued to remain silent but Jaime laughed in her face. "You may have learned to keep your features still my lady, but you can't prevent the anger from showing in your eyes." He leant back once more, relaxing into his chair, but continued to examine her over his wine cup.

"Now where would you learn that?" he mused. "The little wolf I knew would not be able to rein in her temper so well. You came to me so quietly, I didn't even notice you. Granted, I was distracted and we're in a noisy tavern but still, you shouldn't have been able to do that. Not to mention your curious presence here in Braavos. Now perhaps you're just here by coincidence…did you want an adventure and here was the furthest you could get to?"

Jaime took her silence as leave to continue. "However, a thinking man might suppose that perhaps you didn't feel as comfortable back in the family fold as you had hoped? Was the end of Winter not everything you'd dreamed about, my lady, while you were killing all those who wronged you? Did you wish to return to something more familiar? Could it be you learned your little tricks here before, while you were in hiding? There are certain organisations in this city that could facilitate that."

"Why didn't you kill yourself?" Arya rasped out, hiding her clenched fists underneath the table.

Jaime's face dropped and his mouth twisted up in disgust. He drained his cup and poured another from the decanter. He didn't look Arya in the eye as he replied "I have an uncanny knack for living."

"Why run so? Daenerys would give you a pardon for your service to her dynasty by killing Cersei."

Jaime leant towards her, his stump hitting the table with a firm bang. He glared into her eyes and pointed at her with his good hand. "I wasn't about to bend the knee and meekly accept an accolade for killing my sister. I'm not that kind of man."

Arya's instinct was to sharply remind what kind of man he was, but she held her tongue. Jaime's look was fierce and challenging, as if he was ready for her comment. She refused to give him the satisfaction. They remained deadlocked in silence until Jaime spoke.

"I did think about killing myself", he admitted, softly. "Even went up to the Tower of the Hand to throw myself off. But I couldn't do it. Not only because the idea of a one-handed man falling from that tower was just too much of a joke… it appears I'm doomed to live this life right out until the end."

"And so you fled to Braavos", Arya concluded.

"Not fled. I didn't run anywhere. I just started walking, reached the Blackwater Bay and bought passage on the first ship that was leaving. It wasn't pre-meditated, I assure you."

"So you haven't been hiding?"

Jaime scoffed. "No, Lady Stark. Should anybody wish to find me, it would be an easy task. The Dragon Queen should have hunted me down a long time ago. I presume it's my brother's good favour that has persuaded her not to."

"And what do you do here?"

Jaime shrugged. "Drink, eat, reluctantly carry on living."

"Have you stopped sparring?" Arya asked.

Jaime looked confused. "No, I haven't."

Arya looked satisfied. "Why does that amuse you so, my lady?"

"You've no death wish, _Ser_. A man who still has the desire to feel a sword in his hand, still has the desire to live. I learned that a long time ago."

"Did you now?" he asked. "Another part of your work?"

She shook her head. "Life."

Jaime appraised her once more from across the table. "Yes, you seem to have a knack for survival. Rare, for a Stark. How interesting that we have something in common."

"We have nothing in common", she replied, coolly.

"I would beg to differ Lady Stark. For one, we are both occupying this same, lowlife tavern, far from any family we have. We are both alone."

"How do you know I'm alone?" she interrupted.

"Oh I know", he answered with a smirk. "You've got that look in your eyes. You're almost dead inside, you just haven't realised it yet."

"There is one crucial difference between us _Ser _Jaime. My family wants me with them. Yours despise you."

He let out a short laugh. "Do they? What use would the New North have for a vengeful, broken girl? The North and South are great friends now, comrades in ice and fire. In times of peace they have no use for a knife in the dark. You would be a hindrance to them."

"It wasn't like that", Arya forced out.

"No, no, I'm sure it wasn't. Sansa would never publicly turn her back on her long lost sibling. Sweet Sansa who, under the tutelage of Petyr Baelish, managed to mysteriously survive the Long Winter, despite her protector's unfortunate fall out the Moon Door. Innocent Sansa, who is careful enough never to get any blood on her own hands. No, she wouldn't force you out and if she did, you'd never realise it anyway. But you must know she was grateful to see the back of you. There you are, frozen to the core with nothing but a sword in your hand. Could you ever be anything but a problem in this glorious new age of peace?"

For the first time in a long time, Arya was beginning to lose her temper. "At least I never killed any of my family" she shot back.

"You said I was doing a service to the realm by choking the life out of Cersei."

"You were. That's not why you did it though."

"And would you care to enlighten me as to why I did?"

Arya huffed at being reminded she was no closer to finding out his motive, which was the very reason she came to him in the first place.

"Don't be upset, little wolf, just because I understand you better than you understand me."

"I understand you!" she replied, hotly.

Jaime shook his head. "No", he replied forlornly. "You really don't."

Arya stood up abruptly and turned to leave but his words stopped her.

"I'll be drinking here again tomorrow, Lady Stark. If you'd care to join me, perhaps you'll find out how similar we really are."

She glared at him before hurrying out of the tavern into the cool Bravosi night. Inwardly, she fumed at his presumption. She was Arya Stark, the sword in the darkness who brought justice to those who had destroyed what she loved. She had nothing in common with Jaime Lannister; Kingslayer and Kinslayer.

Jaime relaxed back into his seat, pleasantly surprised at the night's turn of events. He knew he would see Arya Stark again.


End file.
